Hajin shoved open the guildhall's long room expecting three empty chairs where yesterday's beaten rankers should be sulking.
Instead Darven stood at the roast platter, jabbing a fork at Juna like it was still his spear.
"The second drive was the best exchange of the whole match," he insisted, "he dragged me across the shield and I bit like a trout."
"Wrong," she tore a drumstick free and aimed it straight at his chest, "the best exchange was the wrist catch, and this leg is mine."
"You were on a balcony."
"Watching, which beats getting swept."
'Oh hell no, they actually showed up, and now they're fighting over my fight.'
"Uh, hello, winner standing in the doorway," Hajin spread both arms wide like a street performer begging coins, "anyone want to clap, cheer, throw a flower or something?"
Rumi and Nari clapped exactly twice each, perfectly out of time, while Loccy waved a bread roll at him.
